


I'll Make a Million Mistakes

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2020 [28]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is So Done, Crack, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's a fun time, Prompt: "Accidents", Scars, Teen pregnancy mention, Tim Drake's Missing Spleen, Tired Parent Bruce Wayne, Whumptober 2020, YOU try wrangling six kids who are all vigilantes, duke gets his teeth knocked out, this is all humor though don't worry, this man needs a vacation, which leads to the batkids comparing scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: “Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.”“I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to keep our teeth, believe it or not.”“Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.”“Y’all need Jethuth.”
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Everyone, Bruce Wayne & His Kids
Series: Whumptober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948297
Comments: 34
Kudos: 617
Collections: consider this your oscar





	I'll Make a Million Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Whump Day 28: "Accidents"
> 
> Title is from "Dear Theodosia" yet again lmao.

Bruce likes to think of himself as a patient man. Even more, he’d like to think it’s a trait he earned all on his own, but anyone who’s met him would testify that he inherited his patience from the man who raised him, and Bruce would have to agree. This level of restraint he possesses is an acquired skill—one that is reserved for the world’s best butlers and for fathers of six.    
  
Karen from the PTA  _ wishes  _ she were on Bruce’s level.   
  
His exceedingly calm temperament is the only reason Bruce doesn’t melt into a puddle on the ground now, his bones turning into a milky froth because  _ Jesus fucking Christ, hasn’t he had a hard enough night as it is? _ No person should have to spend two hours solving riddles because Eddie was feeling manic tonight and then be forced to come home to human children.   
  
Duke smiles around a mouthful of bloody gauze. “In my defenth, I’ve never even had a cavity before.”   
  
“No, you just got your tooth knocked out.”   
  
“Teeth.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Ith acthually  _ teeth,  _ plural. I lotht two of them.”   
  
Bruce facepalms. “Goddamn it.” He ignores the giggles from his other kids, all of whom apparently decided they needed to be present for this conversation. He’s picking his battles tonight.   
  
“Ith not my fault!” Duke points over at Tim, standing against the Batcave’s wall minding his own business. “Ith hith fault.”   
  
“It is  _ not.  _ Bruce, don’t listen to him.”   
  
“Oh, yeah? Who knocked me into the railing in the firtht plathe?”   
  
“That was  _ Jason’s  _ fault. He’s the one who threw the football.”   
  
“Actually,” Jason chimes in, “that was Cass. I was an innocent bystander.”   
  
“Liar,” Cass says.   
  
“Don’t call me a liar.”   
  
_ “Liar.” _   
  
_ “You’re  _ the liar. She’s framing me, Bruce, I swear to god. I’ve never done anything wrong to my siblings in my entire life.”   
  
Dick makes a spluttering noise. “You once threw a pineapple at my head because I was  _ breathing  _ too loudly!”   
  
“And I don’t regret it one bit.”   
  
Bruce sighs. He doesn’t have the energy for this. He gently grasps Duke’s chin, being mindful of his sore jaw. “Where?”   
  
Duke pulls out the wad of gauze and opens his mouth wide. He points at the space where his front tooth used to be, then a canine on the bottom left which now consists of half a white shard. “Ith thith one and thith one.”   
  
Bruce hums. “I can get you a dentist appointment tomorrow afternoon. They’ll put a couple of caps in and you’ll be good as new.” He’ll have to rearrange a few things in his schedule. At least now he has a valid excuse to skip racquetball with Clark. There is no logical reason a bumpkin from Kansas should be better at racquetball than Bruce is, there just isn’t.    
  
“Tho my thmile ithn’t permanently ruined? Thath a relief. Thethe babieth are my betht feature,” he says, all the while bloody saliva dribbles from his lip like a deranged vampire. Best feature, definitely.    
  
“Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.”   
  
“I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to  _ keep  _ our teeth, believe it or not.”   
  
“Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.”   
  
“Y’all need Jethuth.”   
  
“At least it’ll make for a good story one day,” Tim says. “Everyone loves scar stories.”   
  
Jason snorts. “People actually like death stories more, but go off I guess.”   
  
“Nobody  _ cares  _ that you died, Jay. Find new material.”   
  
“You want new material? Check this out.” Jason tugs down the collar of his sweater. He shows off the mostly-faded autopsy scar sliced up his torso and to his shoulders. Bruce winces.   
  
Dick yawns. “So? You got autopsied. Big whoop. Scars don’t count if you’re dead when you get them.” He tips his head down, parts a section of his hair with his fingers to show off the fresh scar on his scalp. “Talk to me when you get shot in the head.”   
  
Tim rolls his eyes. “You realize how stupid this is, right? We shouldn’t be arguing about who has the worst bodily trauma.”   
  
“Why,” Jason says, “because you know you’d lose?”   
  
“Because I’ve got you both beat.” He pulls up his t-shirt to display the surgical scar on his abdomen. “Missing spleen. Beat that.”   
  
“I lost a kidney. Kidney trumps spleen any day.”   
  
Cass rolls up the leg of her shorts to show off her bullet-riddled thigh. “Connect the dots. I win.”   
  
“But have you lost a vital organ?” Tim asks. “No.”   
  
“Spleens aren’t that vital,” Dick says.   
  
“Fuck off, at least you still have one.”   
  
“I would prefer to keep my organth,” Duke says. “Juth thaying.”   
  
“And you will,” Bruce assures him. “Probably.”   
  
_ “Probably?” _   
  
“Look, I’m tired. We’re all tired. Can we schedule the scar contest for a later time when I’m hopefully not here to witness it?” Maybe he can ask Alfred to drug his tea from now on. At least then he can rest easy in a drug-induced slumber, knowing all the while that he’s missing the kind of petty arguments no parent should have to hear.   
  
“No one said you had to be here,” Dick says. “Anyway, Bane once slammed me against a wall and now my hip throbs when it rains.”   
  
“At least your wrist doesn’t click when you move it at the right angle.” Jason shakes his wrist next to Tim’s ear. Tim cringes.   
  
“You’re all amateurs,” a new voice says, and Bruce wants to die. Damian and Stephanie appear to have returned from patrol, still in their uniforms. “Try having your entire spine replaced.”   
  
Tim wrinkles his nose. “Great, it’s time to hear Damian talk about how much better than us he is. My favorite activity.”   
  
“Shut up, Drake. You’ve never experienced pain.”   
  
“I got blown up once! I still have burn scars all over my neck and shoulders!”   
  
“Eh. I’ve had worse.”   
  
Steph grins and holds up her left hand, just happy to be included. (Note to self: ponder whether Stephanie is secretly a golden retriever in human form.) “I have no feeling in these three fingers.” She pokes them to demonstrate. “And should I mention that I was tortured by Black Mask once? No? Because power tools were involved, in case anyone was wondering.”   
  
“Do I need to reiterate that I once  _ died _ in an explosion?”   
  
“Jason. Little wing. I’m  _ begging  _ you to shut up about your death.”   
  
Cass points to a spot on her ribcage. “Two ribs made of metal. Got shattered during a fight. Four years old.”   
  
“My dad used to burn me with cigarettes every time I was bad, so...seven times a week, more or less.”   
  
“Oh, same!” Jason and Steph high-five.   
  
“My grandfather broke my arm in two places when I made a mistake during a training drill. He made me fight assassins for three hours straight afterward without so much as an ice pack.”   
  
Duke looks horrified. “Are you guyth  _ okay?” _   
  
“No offense, but none of you should talk unless you’ve gone through childbirth.” Stephanie rolls up the top portion of her Batgirl suit just enough to show off the scar across her lower belly. “You think getting blown up is hard? Try spending three hours in labor and having a baby ripped out of you.  _ That’s  _ hard.”   
  
Jason wipes away a fake tear. “Boo-hoo, someone had a baby when she was a teenager. Human reproduction doesn’t involve being beaten to death with a crowbar.”   
  
_ “Nobody cares that you died, Jason!” _   
  
“Indeed,” Damian agrees. “Being stabbed by your clone is  _ far  _ worse than being caught in a little explosion. And I can take a crowbar beating in my  _ sleep.” _   
  
“I’m gonna kill him, Bruce. I’ll kill him right now. Just say the word and I’ll do it.”   
  
Bruce sighs, closing his eyes. “Duke, there are painkillers in the medicine cabinet if you need them. I’ll text you the time of your dentist appointment. The rest of you, please refrain from talking to me for the rest of the night.”   
  
Bruce walks away toward the manor, silently praying that he can forget this conversation ever happened.   
  
_ “Hey, who wants to see where Killer Croc bit my ass once?” _   
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
